


You're Here

by fallen_timbers_pencil



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Adorable, Baby, Birth, F/M, Family, Family Fluff, Fatherhood, Feels, Love, Motherhood, Period-Typical Dangers, Pregnancy, Romance, Scared Phillip, Strong Anne, Worried Phillip, awe, cute baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 17:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14061414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallen_timbers_pencil/pseuds/fallen_timbers_pencil
Summary: Phillip is anxious at first, only able to focus on what could go wrong. Seeing her for the first time put all his fears to rest . . .or Phillip and Anne meet their daughter for the first time.Tooth rotting fluff as well as an awestruck, adorable Phillip.





	You're Here

**Author's Note:**

> I love imagining fluff, but somehow it always seems to come out not quite right. Let me know what you think. I love the idea personally of Phillip and Anne's future and what it could be. I think at this point we are all taking creative licenses here anyway. Enjoy!

Phillip felt faint and shaky and his lungs ached as he paced the floor. He was terrified, petrified, his heart hammering so furiously in his chest that he was sure it would explode. He was only aware of his own movements, his own heavy breathing, and hardly heard Phineas from the table, murmuring that all would be well.

He should be excited. He was going to become a father today, if all went well. But it was exactly that. How could they know all would be well? How could Phineas sit there and tell him all would be fine? 

Though Anne had told him not to worry, he knew she was scared too. He could tell she was bothered by something and when prompted incessantly, W.D. finally told him what horrible stories they’d been told by midwives and former slaves. 

“They said how a lot of women don’t survive childbirth. ‘Specially poor, inexperienced women. There’s no money to pay for a doctor and even then, there’s all kinds of things that can go wrong.” He had told him reluctantly. “But my sister is tough. She’ll be fine.”

Phillip was sure his heart rate hadn’t decreased since that day. He knew nothing of childbirth before they’d discovered Anne was indeed carrying their child. With W.D.’s ominous words added on from these people, Phillip did some digging of his own. He consulted with Charity, who hadn’t had much trouble at all with her daughters. She claimed they’d been small and easy, a relief to both herself and P.T. 

Yet, Phillip knew that wasn’t always the case either. He’d discovered the things that could go wrong. The baby can get stuck or come out wrong. That usually resulted in a one or the other decision, a decision Phillip couldn’t ever imagine having to make. Mostly because he feared that he would selfishly choose Anne in that event. He never shared that fear with her, afraid of what she would think of him. But how could he think otherwise? As crass as it sounded, there could never be another her. He knew that was a discussion they should have had, but he couldn’t force himself to ever even bring it up, let alone imagine the possibility. 

And there were post birth things that could happen as well. Anne could get something called puerperal fever, a terrible infection that seized new mothers and took them from their baby and loved ones. 

Or there was postpartum hemorrhaging, where the mother doesn’t stop bleeding after birth. Her body would go into shock and die, just like that. Gone. Or maybe she was too small. He’d heard of women who just weren’t built for childbirth, who began to bleed too much because the baby was too big. Then there was the chance of prolonged birth, where the baby could take too long to arrive, placing both itself and the mother in a near death situation. He read that often babies were already dead at that point and doctors had to be called to remove the baby from the mother. And she may not even be out of the woods, as the mother can die from shock or infection shortly after. 

How could an event so wonderful, so heart-achingly beautiful such as birth, be so dangerous? He wanted nothing more to be able to protect Anne from all pain and harm, but he never felt more helpless than in this moment. 

The walls seemed to be closing in and he tried not to glance again at the closed door. He knew Charity and the midwife were taking good care of his wife. But he needed to be with her. He needed to just in case…damn it, no. 

He would not lose her. 

There was a fierce cry of pain from the other side of the door and Phillip bit his tongue to keep from shouting his frustration. 

W.D. glanced sympathetically his way. “Come on Carlyle, she’s a strong woman. She will be okay.” 

Phillip scratched behind his neck, nerves creating anxious behavior in him. “How can they expect me to wait out here? How does a father not have a part in this? If I recall correctly, I has plenty of part in this.” Normally he was sure that his statement might’ve been implied as lewd or unnecessary, but it was true wasn’t it? He should be in there, supporting Anne and helping her deliver a baby that he helped create. 

Anne screamed this time, a sound that ripped through Phillip’s heart and shattered it into a million pieces in his chest. He sucked in a queasy breath, doubling over as if in pain as she was. He raised his eyes to look at the other two men. 

“No.” He finally growled. He lunged for the door and P.T. and W.D. leapt for him. He turned to them, a determined glare in his eye that warned them not to touch him. “I won’t stand by as she’s in pain. I won’t. I don’t care if it’s not proper or indecent or bad luck. I’m going in and nothing can stop me.” 

He expected them to try it reach for him again, expected to have to fight his way to Anne, because damn it, they rewrote the stars, who cares if he was at the presence of his child’s birth. Besides, it was the Barnum house and Phineas wouldn’t place restrictions on him normally. Normalcy just wasn’t normal here. 

To his relief, they both stepped back, admission in their eyes under his unyielding stare. Phillip nodded to them and entered the room. He froze up when he took in what he was seeing. Anne was in the bed, face twisted in what he could only distinguish as pure agony. She tightly gripped the sheets, Charity at her far side and the midwife just below her. Her forehead was covered in sweat and another whimper of pain came from her. 

He was broken from his initial shock at the noise and he crossed the room in two strides. The midwife, her name he couldn’t recall, reached for him. “No, no, you can’t be in here.”

Phillip opened his mouth to protest, but to his surprise, Anne flew to his defense. “No. I want him here. There ain’t no reason for him to be pacing a trench into the floor out there when he can be in here and being useful.” He watched her as she spoke and whatever had seized her before seemed to have passed, if only for a moment. 

The midwife looked at Charity, her face set in a determined frown. “It’s not proper.”

Charity smiled at Anne and Phillip, reaching out to affectionately brush some strands of slick hair from the younger woman’s skin. “I think these two are beyond caring about what’s considered proper. I wish that Phineas could have been with me when I had Caroline and Helen. I won’t ask him to leave.”

The midwife grumbled under breath, but didn’t protest further, outnumbered. Phillip turned his attention to his wife and held out a hand. She released the bed covers at her side with one hand and tightly latched onto his own. He tried not to grimace when a moment seized her again, the strength in her hands unparalleled. She was in far more pain than he. What did he need his hand for anyway? 

The coming and going labor pains became more and more frequent, her groans of pain becoming muffled by her heavy breathing. Phillip’s ears roared with his heartbeat, unable to hear his own murmurs of the most comforting words he could muster. Charity was across from him, continuously brushing sweat from Anne’s forehead with a wet cloth. She said little but when she did speak, it was soothing, soft words between Phillip’s hums. In between the contractions, she would raise a glass of water to her lips, which she would insist she only take a few drops at a time. 

The midwife had shifted further down to Anne’s legs, a position change that made Phillip more nervous than he ever could have imagined being. “It’s almost time to push,” She warmed Anne, patting her bare leg. Anne snapped her head to Phillip, eyes wet and bottom lip still quivering.

“I can’t do this.” 

Those four words were words he’d never imagined ever hearing his wife say. He knew he needed to be the reassurance she needed but what did he know? What did he know? 

“Anne, you’re the strongest person I know. I know you’re afraid and I am too, but this is our baby, a person we made together,” Phillip crooned. “I believe in you, okay? And so does this baby. You can do this.”

Anne nodded, biting her lip and taking a few deep breaths. He wrapped his own fingers tighter around her hand, praying and hoping and wishing that his own words were true. He took a steady breath of his own. She can do this. 

He wasn’t sure how long it took. He was only aware of Anne. He could only think how strong she was, how brave. He was sure she would collapse in exhaustion, only to be astounded by a burst of strength and extraordinary pain in his hand. Each clench of her grip, however, seemed to grow weaker, and deep seated worry took place in his chest. Charity was quietly encouraging Anne, seeming nonplussed by any of it. The midwife shouted out instructions, always along the lines of “push harder” or “you’re almost there”. Phillip could only lean his face close to her and whisper soft words, promises of a beautiful future, of the child they would soon hold in their arms. Anne shot up, doubling over and sobbing, begging for it to be over. 

Then everything quieted. It was if every sound in the room had hushed itself, save for the piercing cry that wretched his heart and sent him soaring at the same time. The midwife straightened up just as Anne collapsed backwards onto the bed. Phillip peered up, breaths coming shallow, hardly daring to breathe at all. There was blood everywhere, God there was blood everywhere, but the midwife was holding a screaming bundle and he felt overwhelmed. 

Anne was weakly grasping his hand again. “Is the baby okay? Is the baby okay?” She kept repeating, trying to coax an answer from him. 

Phillip could hardly move his lips, staring at all the blood and rose up to see better. Charity had moved, cleaning Anne’s legs and moving away bloody sheets. She withdrew new ones, covering her before stopping next to the older woman who held their baby. Phillip gestured vaguely, stuttering, “The. . .the blood . . . is it . . . is she gonna . . .” 

The midwife cracked a smile at him, the first one he’d seen from her all night. “She’s alright. Why don’t we take your daughter over to mama?”

Phillip’s heart exploded into a flurry of restless fluttering and he couldn’t help the hand that flew to his forehead. A daughter? He’d meant to say the words aloud, but his functions weren’t working quite right and instead followed the midwife over to Anne, who was shaking with quiet sobs. Phillip watched in awe as the woman gently eased the still hidden baby down on Anne’s chest. An immediate smile came from his wife, a choked laugh erupting from her. She cradled the baby close, her powerful lungs still wailing. 

Anne didn’t seem to mind, but instead pulled back the swaddling a bit to get a better glimpse of their daughter. Phillip’s breath caught in his throat. She was red-skinned from the trauma of birth, but he could see the caramel tones. She was wrinkly and covered in fluid and afterbirth. What wispy strands of hair that were on her head were darkened with blood. He’d never seen a sight so beautiful. 

As Anne held her, Charity moved forward and began to rub the blankets that swaddled her, wiping off the blood. It seemed as though Anne was experiencing the same million emotions that he was feeling, unable to focus on one. She burst into tears again and swept a finger over the baby’s head. “Hi,” She cried. “I know you.”

Phillip moved closer and Anne turned to meet his eyes, her dark ones shining with tears and pure joy. She tilted her head, an invitation to join her. He climbed into the bed with her, curling into her side, his cheek close to hers. He looked down into the swaddle, smiling widely when the baby eventually calmed and yawned, as if tired out by her own screams. Her eyes stayed shut, her lips smacking as she nestled into the blankets, sleepy as a lion cub. 

“Anne,” Phillip whispered. “I never could’ve imagined this.”

Anne seemed to be getting sleepy herself, her arms loosely wrapped around the baby on her chest. But she kept her eyes on him, eyelids drooping. “She’s the stars, Phillip. She’s everything.”

Phillip knew what she meant and reached out a hand, gently feeling the hair atop her head. The little baby surged up a bit, as if getting more comfortable before settling again. He was sure his mouth was open, watching her with awe, but he couldn’t help it. This feeling swelled his chest and quickened his heart and he knew he was already wrapped around her finger.

“Emma Joy.” Anne breathed. It was a name they had come back to time and time again, and Phillip knew it just fit. 

 

Phillip watched his daughter for what felt like hours, both Anne and Emma sleeping soundly after their birthing experience. Anne’s head had dropped to his shoulder, her face tucked into the shallow between his shoulder and neck. Emma laid comfortably on Anne’s chest, all three of them covered by the comforters that Charity had given him before leaving with the midwife. 

“Give them some space,” Charity had said, guiding the older woman out.

Phillip remembered how he felt when he and Anne finally were together, how he was sure he could never be happier. How could he know that this was down the road? All is earlier fears had been quelled for now. Perhaps later this week he would be anxious to make sure Anne avoided all chances of infection. But now? He was content, elated, thrilled with right now. 

There was nowhere else he wanted to be. After turning to press a soft kiss to Anne’s temple, he leaned his head against hers. He lifted his hand to where Emma’s own open hand was. She immediately wrapped her fingers around his large finger with hands as strong as her mother’s. A soft coo came from her and Phillip had to take a deep breath to avoid crying himself. He let a few tears fall. He found himself making quiet promises to her, to his little girl. 

“You’ll never be alone. I promise. And you’ll be so loved. I’ll protect you, from everything.” His voice was thick with emotion and cracked a bit. 

“I’m here.”

_It's everything you ever want_

_It's everything you ever need_

_It's here right in front of you_

_This is where you want to be_

**Author's Note:**

> So, I discovered through this fic how traumatic giving birth could be for a woman in the 1800s. There were hardly any pain medications and the only ones available (for example, chloroform) were mostly only available to the wealthy or they were considered dangerous and not practiced by doctors. Typically a doctor was only involved if a prolonged birth took place and most cases, the baby did not live. The use of a doctor also might've resulted in the death of the mother via infection, as antiseptic was not a common practice either. There were many instances were the mother or the baby or both could die. Pregnancy was a very scary concept to women, despite the large families people usually had. 
> 
> Though Anne may seem a little OOC here, I tried to put myself in the shoes of a woman who probably had no access to medicine or a doctor, and had never had a child before. She also is a petite woman (size, not height), which was a situation that could generally be more difficult in the birthing process. I am almost certain she would be terrified. 
> 
> Oh! Also, Emma means "whole", which I thought suited the little Carlyle family just right. And I just had to use joy as part of it. It just makes sense.
> 
> Again, historically might be some details wrong or something, but I will just wave my creative license at you cause some information is really lacking about what it was like to live then. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this and please, feedback is always very much appreciated and inspires me to write more.


End file.
